


someone as frightened as you

by cuubism



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Kissing, M/M, Minor Violence, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge, so much goddamn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: Growing up, death was ever-present. Not just a threat, a certainty. And then there was Magnus, and Alec decided that as long as Magnus was around, death was not something he would accept. Death went from a certainty to an impossibility.If some person or demon doesn’t physically kill him, Alec just won’t die, he realizes. Not ever.He’s dealt with the not dying. He hasn’t dealt with theever.SH Tarot Challenge Prompt 2: Death
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 38
Kudos: 231
Collections: Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge, Very Best Malec





	someone as frightened as you

“Ah, _fuck!”_

Alec slashes the final demon with his blade, not stopping to watch it disintegrate as he clamps a hand over the gash its claw left in his arm. His hand spasms, sending the blade clattering to the ground, and blood wells between his fingers. 

He wasn’t even supposed to be on patrol—he doesn’t do much demon hunting these days—but the Institute had been short staffed, and he couldn’t just _leave_ them that way. 

It’s good to know working behind a desk hasn’t made him too soft to take down a couple of demons.

Alec looks critically at the wound in his upper arm. It’s pretty deep, actually, but nothing that should be too difficult to heal. He quickly draws an _iratze._

Which does… nothing. 

Alec sighs, more irritated than anything. He’s experienced enough to know that the venom is pretty mild. It would probably work its way out of his system on its own in a few days, but he knows Magnus will insist on healing it once he gets home. 

So that’s that problem sorted.

As he wipes his blade on his pant leg, Alec mentally ticks through the things he still has to do today. Patrol is over. He can write his report tomorrow. Paperwork is never done, which means it can wait. So he _should_ be good to go home— 

No, wait, he was planning to pick up flowers for Magnus.

He starts heading in that direction. 

Magnus has been having a long few weeks, bouncing across the world to help with various minor emergencies, only coming back to the loft to sleep, if that. Last night, he got in after Alec was asleep, and was still dead to the world when Alec left at noon for the afternoon patrol.

Flowers may be just a small gesture, but Alec knows they’ll cheer Magnus up. 

He glamours the blood and ichor all over him before stepping into the flower shop. He forgot to do that once and nearly caused a huge panic. It’s been nearly seventy-five years and Magnus _still_ teases him about how he can never go back to that particular store.

The owner of _this_ store knows him and puts together the bouquet he describes ( _something, uh, cheerful? with a lot of yellow?_ ) with a warm smile. Magnus is _convinced_ that she’s flirting with him, and has warned Alec to be careful not to accidentally break her poor heart, but Alec’s of the opinion that more than thirty flower arrangements _“For My Beautiful Husband”_ should be enough to get a person to take a hint. 

Then again, he’ll never understand Mundanes. 

He pays for the flowers before any further attempts at flirting can occur, feeling a little jittery. Even after so long living this semi-domesticated life with Magnus, running mundane errands feels incredibly bizarre. You never really escape your upbringing, he supposes. 

When he pushes open the doors of the loft, he doesn’t have to call out to know that Magnus isn’t home. The loft _feels_ colder and darker without him there, regardless of the actual temperature or level of illumination.

Alec places the flowers in a vase in the kitchen, stopping with his arm outstretched when he catches sight of the blood soaking his sleeve. Shit. He should definitely bandage that. 

In the bathroom, he carefully cuts away his sleeve—the shirt’s ruined anyway—and washes out the wound under the showerhead. The torn flesh continues to bleed sluggishly even when clean. 

It’s fascinating, really, to be able to see past his skin and into his body, at the wiry muscles that let him move, the blood that keeps his heart beating. It’s all so _fragile._

He hasn’t really thought about it, being fragile. Not since… well. 

Growing up, death was ever-present. Not just a threat, a certainty. And then there was Magnus, and Alec decided that as long as Magnus was around, death was not something he would accept. Death went from a certainty to an impossibility. 

If some person or demon doesn’t physically _kill him,_ Alec just won’t die, he realizes. Not ever. 

He’s dealt with the not dying. He hasn’t dealt with the _ever._

He suddenly becomes aware that his hands are shaking, hard enough that he can no longer examine the wound. He should probably go lie down. Clearly, the lingering adrenaline from the battle is hitting him harder than he thought. 

_Oh, no,_ he realizes as his breathing quickens, _that adrenaline’s not from the_ battle…

Fuck. 

He stumbles back, clumsily switching off the water. _If he can just make it to the bed…_

He doesn’t. 

Panic surges through his body, he sways, half-falls half-slides down the wall to the bathroom floor, pressing the palms of his hands to the cool tile. 

Breathe. _Breathe._ For the love of— get it _together._

He can’t get the thought out of his head: _forever._ That’s… a _long_ time.

It’s an insanely stupid thought to have _now,_ one hundred years after committing to it. 

Distantly, he hears the sound of a portal opening.

“Alexander?” 

Footsteps in the living room. 

“Alec!” 

Magnus sounds panicked, his voice pitched high and wobbling slightly. Alec knows that if he doesn’t say anything Magnus will find him eventually. Still:

“In here,” he calls weakly. 

He hears approaching footsteps, then the bathroom door swings open. As soon as Magnus sees him he’s rushing forward, collapsing to his knees beside Alec’s crumpled form. 

“Oh, darling, what happened?” his hands float over Alec’s body, unsure if he’s allowed to touch. “Are you hurt? I felt—” 

Of course Magnus felt his panic. Their marriage bond connects them, heart and mind, no matter how far apart they are. Magnus is now tuned into Alec’s soul far more intimately than Jace ever was.

They don’t keep the connection fully open all the time. Alec would be content to always have Magnus in the corner of his mind, used to the feeling because of Jace, but he knows Magnus values the sanctity of his mental space, and would never begrudge him that. They open it deliberately at times—during sex, when cuddling or holding each other, during meetings when they want to know what the other is thinking, when one or both of them is heading into danger, when one of them is upset and needs to be comforted. But certain strong emotions break through regardless of intent. 

Like now, apparently. 

Magnus’s hand goes to Alec’s neck, grounding him as Alec struggles to draw in a full breath. His grip is steadying, a rock to hold onto amidst a current that’s sweeping him god knows where. 

Forever. 

_Fuck._

“Breathe, love.” Magnus’s other hand presses to his heart, feeling its fluttering. His eyes dart all over, clearly looking for some cause of this breakdown. They land on the wound in his arm, but he must not think it’s too serious as he doesn’t remove either of his hands to heal it. “Easy, you’re alright.”

Alec thinks that’s debatable. His heart is hammering louder and louder in his chest, and staring at Magnus is just reminding him that it never _ends,_ oh _god_ —

“Magnus,” he says, “Magnus, _Magnus_ —” 

Magnus must sense him spiraling, for suddenly he’s pushing Alec’s knees down so he can climb into his lap. His thighs pressing onto Alec’s are a strong weight holding him to the ground, his body radiates heat that Alec can feel in his chest, his hands come up to hook under his jaw. Alec needs that weight, that heat, that grip. He’s flying away in a cold wind. 

“Shh,” Magnus says, “shh, darling, it’s alright. It will be alright. Tell me what’s bothering you, hmm?”

_“Forever,”_ Alec manages to say. 

Magnus’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s so _long._ ” Alec feels like an idiot.

Understanding dawns across Magnus’s face, and he shifts back slightly in Alec’s lap. He probably doesn’t think Alec notices, but he does. Magnus’s body has gone tense under his hands, the smile he plasters on is strained. 

“It is,” he says. “It is, I’m sorry.” 

Alec’s heart jumps, and he knows, just _knows,_ that Magnus has drawn entirely the wrong conclusion from his words. A conclusion that, in retrospect, he should have known Magnus would come to. 

“No, I didn’t mean—” 

But Magnus is already shifting back further, as if to get up, releasing Alec’s face. Alec snags his wrists and holds them, feeling Magnus’s pulse hammer under his thumbs. Magnus swallows hard and avoids his gaze.

Nothing can cut through Alec’s panic like that tremulous expression on Magnus’s face.

“Look at me,” Alec says, the words almost getting stuck in his throat with how effortlessly he’s ripped the floor out from beneath Magnus’s feet. 

“You don’t have to explain—”

“I’ve never regretted my time with you,” Alec interrupts.

Magnus finally looks up at him, startled. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Alec continues. “That I suddenly realized I made a mistake in staying with you. That’s not what I meant.” 

He releases Magnus’s wrists to cup his face between his palms, and Magnus offers him a small smile.

“I always feared it was inevitable,” he admits. 

“I know, and I hate that.” Alec runs his thumbs over Magnus’s cheekbones, relishing the way he closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

He can never get over how it feels to hold Magnus like this, knowing that he’s holding his entire being between his hands, and that Magnus is _letting_ him. It’s a reminder of how fragile Magnus actually is, how underneath the glitter and magic he’s just blood and bone like all the rest of them. There is nothing more frightening than knowing that this soul he loves more than the whole world lives in a breakable body.

Alec still remembers the first time, so long ago now, that he saw Magnus bleed. It was a minor wound, similar to the one he’s currently sporting on his arm, but it nearly sent him into a blind panic. The idea that his strong, solid, _immortal_ boyfriend could be broken open so easily had been terrifying. Alec had wanted to follow Magnus around as his personal bodyguard for _weeks._

Of course, he’s since realized that he has far more to fear from Magnus’s internal injuries than his external ones. 

Especially the ones Alec himself inflicts. 

He presses a quick kiss to Magnus’s lips, and says, “Come on. I could never get enough of you. You know that.”

Magnus sighs, pressing his forehead against Alec’s. “I do. I’m sorry.” 

Alec releases his face to run a hand up and down his back. “It’s okay.” 

Magnus huffs, his breath warm against Alec’s lips. “You were upset about something. I’ve derailed your panic attack.” 

Alec snorts. “Yeah, because I was enjoying that so much.” 

Magnus pulls back, looking at him in concern. “What _was_ bothering you, then?” 

Alec feels his cheeks heat. He ducks his head. “Oh god, it’s going to sound _so_ stupid.” 

Magnus takes a hold of his chin and tilts his face back up. “Please tell me.” 

“I don’t know,” Alec sighs, trying to articulate his thoughts, “I just don’t think I ever really processed it. The idea of just… staying alive forever, and never dying. It’s— it’s _weird._ ” 

The corners of Magnus’s lips quirk up in a half-amused, half-sympathetic smile. “It’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah. How do you handle it?”

Magnus shrugs self-deprecatingly. “Mostly, I _don’t_ , to be honest. It’s too much to think about on a daily basis. But it helps to have someone who understands what you’re dealing with. It’s why the Warlock community is so tight-knit.”

“Makes sense.” 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Magnus pats his chest, “you have those people. Me, and Cat, and Simon. But especially _me._ You know you can always talk to me about it? You’re not alone in this.” 

Magnus looks a little out of breath after all that. Alec kisses the corner of his mouth. “And neither are you,” he tells him.

Magnus blinks once, twice. Then pushes onward: “It also helps to think not of immortality, but of just a very long lifespan.” He smiles a little, bittersweet. “No one is _truly_ immortal, Alexander. We may be beyond the reach of age, but death will come for us all eventually, whether we’re killed by demons or just done in by a piece of bad steak.”

It’s unexpectedly comforting. That infinite, amorphous mass of _life_ stretching out before him isn’t infinite after all. Not that he wants it to end anytime soon, not when he has Magnus here with him, not when he still has more to do. 

“There’s no real forever,” Magnus concludes. 

“Even if there were, I would still want it with you,” Alec says, “even though it scares the shit out of me.” 

Magnus softens. “Oh, my love. Me too.” 

“Does it scare you? Immortality?” 

“It terrifies me.” Magnus’s expression turns suddenly, unexpectedly light. He grins. “Why do you think I spend so much time not thinking about it?” 

“Because you specialize in avoidance?” 

Magnus jerks back, looking startled—though not hurt, Alec’s relieved to see—by the accuracy of the jab. Halfway through, the motion shifts to a more intentional languid lean that has Alec suppressing a smile at Magnus’s attempt to disguise his reaction. 

Magnus smiles, long and slow, and tilts his head, and Alec just _knows_ he has it coming for him. “Oh, _I’m_ the one who’s been avoiding?”

“Shut up.” Alec leans in to place a couple of smacking kisses on Magnus’s smug face. “You’ve had way longer to get used to this.” 

“Are you calling me _old,_ Alexander?” 

“Yes.” 

“Rude.” Magnus returns his kisses. “Very rude. What shall we do about that?”

“Whatever you want.” 

“Carte blanche?” Magnus leans in to nip under Alec’s jaw. “It’s a good thing we have a _lot_ of time, then.”

“Maybe we can move somewhere else before we get started? I’m losing feeling in my legs.” 

Magnus looks down at where his thighs are still pressing Alec’s against the floor. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we, darling? How else would you pick me up, and press me against the wall, and f—” 

“Yeah, because that’s the _only_ reason I need legs,” Alec interrupts before Magnus can distract him to the point that he truly loses circulation. 

“I can’t possibly think of another.” 

“You’re really in a mood today, huh?” 

“Don’t get _snippy_ with me,” Magnus pouts. “I haven’t touched my husband in _weeks._ ” 

“Neither have I.”

“And you’re _thriving._ ” 

“Magnus, are we getting up off the floor, or not?” 

“I don’t know, Alexander, are we?” Magnus looks down his nose at him in clear challenge, sedately curling his fingers around Alec’s neck, and that’s it. Alec will show him. 

He wraps his hands around Magnus’s thighs, tucks his feet under himself as best he can, and pushes up the wall to standing. Magnus is no help at all, an absolute dead weight in Alec’s arms, smiling serenely down at him like a prince on his chariot.

“Where to now, my liege?”

Magnus frowns in thought. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the kitchen? I’m feeling rather _peckish._ ” He grins sharply down at Alec, eyes twinkling. 

“As you—” 

Alec’s injured arm gives out on him. 

Magnus tumbles from his grip with an undignified yelp, landing, somehow, mostly on his feet. Alec clamps a hand over the wound, which is suddenly on _fire._

“Shit,” he grits out, “I forgot about that.” 

Magnus crowds up to him, prying his hand off his arm. “Let me see.” 

He scans the gash with his magic and visibly relaxes. “It’s not too serious. Why didn’t you heal it?” 

“Tried. _Iratze_ didn’t work. Some kind of mild venom.” 

Magnus swats his uninjured arm. “Alexander! You’ve been walking around with an infected wound?” 

Alec shrugs. “Had more important things to do.” 

“Like what, pray tell?” 

“Getting you flowers.” 

Magnus softens, running a soothing hand down Alec’s arm. “While I love getting flowers from you, please know that I prefer you to be conscious when delivering them.” 

Alec grins. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Let’s clear this up.” Magnus’s playfulness vanishes as he directs his complete focus to the wound, healing it with a flash of magic that’s a balm to Alec’s soul. He’s missed the touch of Magnus’s magic during these past few weeks. 

“There.” Magnus presses a kiss to the pink, healed skin. “All better.”

“That free-of-charge Warlock TLC is really one of the main benefits of this marriage,” Alec says. 

“Oh, but it’s not free-of-charge this time.” 

“It’s not?” 

“Nope,” Magnus says, popping the ‘p,’ as he grabs a fistful of Alec’s shirt and drags him into a kiss.

Alec returns it wholeheartedly, relishing in the warmth of his lips as Magnus kisses him messily, biting at his bottom lip, his hands tugging at his shirt, seemingly trying to yank it off without moving away from his face.

Magnus taps at Alec’s arm. “We weren’t finished.” 

“You want me to pick you up?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Magnus stretches like a cat, twining his arms around Alec’s neck again, playing with his hair. “Just don’t throw me this time.” 

Alec gapes at him indignantly. “I didn’t _throw_ you.” 

Magnus shrugs. “Agree to disagree.”

“There’s nothing to— never mind.” Alec hauls Magnus back up. Magnus wraps his legs around his waist, grinning. He looks _so_ self-satisfied. 

“Ooh, so _strong_ ,” Magnus purrs, petting his chest, his arms. 

Even though Magnus is hard to hold—he’s actually pretty heavy and is constantly squirming around—Alec finds having him in his arms extremely comforting, especially after weeks spent barely seeing each other. That weight means Magnus is here with him, that squirming means Magnus is alive, and Alec feels like with a firm grip on him, he can keep him safe. He knows Magnus doesn’t need his protection most of the time, but that isn’t going to stop Alec from providing it. 

He tamps down the sudden surge of affection he feels so he can focus enough to quip back, “This is really a _thing_ for you now, isn’t it?” 

Magnus lifts a hand to his forehead in a mock faint, closing his eyes. “What can I say? I’m but a poor traveler, exhausted from my wanderings across the lands and in desperate need of a hero to sweep me off my feet! And lo, one appears! How am I to be blamed when the presence of such a dashing Shadowhunter in my home renders me unable to walk?” 

Alec squints at him. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I slept last night.” 

“I meant before that.”

Magnus’s lips purse as he thinks. “Tuesday.” 

“It’s _Saturday._ ” 

Magnus’s expression turns sheepish. “I _may_ be a bit delirious.” 

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Are you going to help fulfill my wild fantasies?” Magnus’s breath tickles Alec’s neck. “Or… not?” He nips at the skin, sucking a mark there. 

_Yeah,_ Alec thinks, breathless, _I would do anything for you._ He says, “What’s in it for me?” 

Magnus smirks and rolls his hips. “Why don’t you find out?”

Alec grins and tries to kiss the smirk off his face. Magnus leans in, taking advantage of his new height to press down into Alec’s mouth, hot and messy, his hands going to Alec’s hair. He tugs. 

Alec follows the pull of his hands, stumbling a little as he tries to walk with Magnus’s face blocking his line of sight. As they approach the bed, an idea occurs to him. 

Magnus frowns down at him. “I don’t like that look on your face. Alexander, what’s that look?” 

Alec keeps his expression carefully neutral. “Oh, nothing.” 

“Alec—” 

He doesn’t get any further because Alec suddenly pries Magnus away from his torso and _throws_ him. Magnus shrieks, landing on the bed in a flurry of bouncing pillows. He pushes himself upright, mouth agape, hair going in all directions, looking absolutely _scandalized._ “Alexander!” 

“Now _that_ ,” Alec says, looking down at him triumphantly, “is throwing you.” 

Magnus just stares at him, lost for words. 

“What? I thought you were fantasizing about being tossed into bed by a big, strong Shadowhunter?” 

Magnus plays with his ear, smiling a little. “Well, now that you mention it…” He leans back onto the pillows, beckons Alec with a finger. “Are you going to finish what you started?” 

“Oh, _you_ started this.” But Alec’s toeing off his boots, pulling off Magnus’s, too, for good measure, before crawling up the bed to lean down on his newly-healed arm and kiss him, their bellies just barely touching. 

Magnus’s hand drags up Alec’s back to tangle in his hair. He shifts on the bed, burying himself deeper in the comforter. He looks so languid and beautiful, limbs limp with relaxation, he looks—

—really tired, actually. 

For the first time Alec notices the lines around his eyes, the dark circles covered with concealer. How Magnus’s movements drag, slow and warm like honey, how there’s a delay in the way his eyes track Alec’s, like too fast a movement might cause him pain. 

“Hey,” Alec says, “You okay?” 

“Tired,” Magnus says, and the fact that he’s even admitting it says a lot. “Keep kissing me.” 

Alec kisses him, his lips, his nose, his jaw. “You should take a nap.” 

Magnus groans. “I want to spend time with my husband, it’s been _weeks_.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Magnus pulls Alec down so all his weight is plastered across his body. “Mmm. You _are_ a good blanket.” 

“I’m covered in blood.” 

Magnus snaps his fingers and they’re both clad in clean pajamas. 

“Thanks.” 

Magnus tugs at his face, eyes slipping shut. “Come on, blanket, _kiss me._ Come on, come _on_ —” 

“I’m _coming_ , by the Angel.” Alec kisses him, over and over and over. 

“You still owe me for saving your arm,” Magnus murmurs.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the debt?” 

“One quadrillion kisses.” 

“Not sure I can ever pay that back,” Alec says, pressing the first of a quadrillion kisses to the corner of Magnus’s mouth, “but I’m happy to start by kissing you to sleep.” 

Magnus smiles against his lips. “My greatest fantasy.” 

Alec kisses Magnus again, long and deep, just tasting him. Magnus whimpers, shifting under him, twining a slow and uncoordinated hand in Alec’s hair to pull him in deeper, dragging his lips against Alec's, slipping his tongue into Alec’s mouth. 

Magnus hums, loose and happy, on the verge of sleep, and Alec’s heart soars to see him so open and comfortable, unburdened and drowning in nothing but pleasure. Magnus deserves it. He deserves this _always_. If it wouldn’t be against Magnus’s nature, Alec would keep him in this moment forever. 

But there are no real forevers, and he shouldn’t try to make there be. 

Magnus reaches up for him, jerking him back out of his thoughts. “C’mere ‘n _kiss me_ , ‘lexander. Kiss me…” 

By the time Alec moves to do so, he’s already asleep. 

Alec presses one final kiss to Magnus’s forehead, and then lies down beside him, dragging the blanket from the end of the bed over them, tucking his head in the crook of Magnus’s neck. Sleep is pulling at him, too, and he doesn’t mind, more than content to soak in Magnus’s warmth, the solidness of his body, especially when Magnus turns in his sleep to clutch at him, his tight grip a grounding force.

Alec looks at him and tries to capture this moment, to hold onto it permanently in his mind’s eye, knowing that if he ever starts despairing over the sheer expansiveness of his future, he’ll only have to look back on this to remember why he wanted it in the first place, to remember why it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> *casually tosses a soulbond into the fic and then never mentions it again* 
> 
> title from ["Being Alive"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WkzOywmPPU) from the musical _Company_
> 
> need some cheering up in these trying times? feel free to pop in [on tumblr](https://cuubism.tumblr.com) and ask for a fic <3


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